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Chapter Twenty-one
Ryan
So, this is what leaving Grace alone looks like.
It looks like me getting shit-faced and letting Declan dump me in her daughter’s bed. Like me laying here with my eyes closed, listening to the soft murmur of her voice, mixed with Declan’s low tones with my gut clenched tight because I can hear what he’s saying.
He apologizes for dumping me on her doorstep and she waves it off with a nervous laugh and a we’ll be fine.
She tells him that Henley was here and that she’d been drunk when she left.
That bothers me.
Makes me feel like shit, because I know I’m the reason for it. Because I keep pushing her away. Won’t let my guard down and be her brother again. Won’t let her love me. Be my sister.
And the really fucked up part?
As shitty as I feel about it, as sorry as I am for the shit going on with Henley, Grace is still all I can think about.
She says something that makes Declan laugh and I feel my gut clench in response. It’s a rare thing—real laughter from Declan. He only lets his guard down around people he trusts. Cares about. Everyone else gets the thousand-yard stare and fuck you smirk. The fact that Grace was able to slip past his defenses bothers me. Makes me jealous.
Which is fucking stupid.
Declan’s in love with Tess.
He doesn’t want Grace.
But if he did, you wouldn’t stand a chance. You know that, don’t you, Ranger? If Declan Gilroy wanted to, he could steal your girl without even trying.
My girl.
A wave of possessiveness washes over me, so strong and brutal I feel like I’m drowning in it.
Grace is mine.
The front door snaps closed, the sound of it as loud as a starter pistol in the quiet and my heart takes off at a gallop
Fuck me.
He did it.
That fucker actually did it.
Declan left me alone with her.
And that surprises you why? You’re drunk, disabled and couldn’t get it up with a dump truck full of Viagra and construction crane.
The fuck kinda threat do you present again, exactly?
That’s when I start to laugh.
I’m still laughing when I sense her presence and open my eyes to find Grace hovering in the doorway, a wastepaper basket in my one hand and a glass of water in the other.
I shift my gaze away from her and back to the ceiling while my laughter dies, the absence of it leaving my chest feeling heavy and tight. “Hey.”
Like my acknowledgment makes up her mind, Grace moves through the doorway and into my peripheral.
“Hey,” she says back, lifting the trash can into my line of sight. “Molly is very concerned about her sheets. They’re brand-new, so if you need to throw-up, do it in here.”